


Team Player

by MintAqua



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Red Team is also there but mostly just towards the end, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintAqua/pseuds/MintAqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: That time Agent Washington mostly-singlehandedly kicked the Red Team's ass at Capture the Flag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team Player

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I'm partly uploading this to reassure people that I'm still alive and writing haha and partly uploading this because I apparently wrote this back in January after finishing RVB for the first time and it has just been sitting around on my drive since then. I had a huge itch I needed to scratch because there wasn't nearly enough Wash being involved in dumb Blood Gulch-esque antics for my taste so I decided to focus on that time they spent in Val Halla in season 10 right before they decided to follow Church and Carolina. It was a pretty helpful exercise in trying to feel out their voices and figure out how to actually write RVB fic sooo yep! Here it is.

The blue base is kind of a mess when they get back. There’s a whole lot of Caboose lying around, meaning random electrical parts that don’t seem like they go together, crayon drawings on the walls, junk food wrappers, and...tissues. Those could belong to Caboose  _ or _ Tucker, actually. Washington doesn’t ask.

“Right…” Wash picks a wad of chewed gum off the wall. “So, where’s the flag?”

Caboose takes a moment to think. It is a pretty long moment. “Dude, don’t tell me you let Donut buy it from us again,” Tucker says.

Donut, Donut, Donut… Oh, right. The pink guy. The one he shot. Wash is really going to have to get used to that instinctive flash of guilt if he’s going to see Donut around all the time now. He’s not even dead. No thanks to Wash, granted, but still. “They  _ bought _ it off you?”

“Yeah. Wait,” Tucker turns to Caboose, “did Donut even pay you?”

“Oh, oh, wait, I remember!” Caboose says in lieu of an answer. He dives into a pile of miscellaneous junk and proceeds to ‘sort’ through it by throwing its components all over the room.

Seeing that Caboose might take a while, Wash clears his throat. “Alright, well, once we put the flag somewhere safe, we should clean up a bit. I’d say just leave it this way to make it harder for the Reds to navigate our base, on the off chance that they somehow invade, but I don’t think  _ I _ know how to navigate our base. And, also, I need a place to sleep that doesn’t smell like funyuns.”

Tucker groans. “Can’t you just make Caboose do it? It’s his mess.”

“I can clean it!” Caboose chirps. He picks the flag out of the junk pile and lies down with the flag on top of him. “Right after naptime.”

Washington attempts to pluck the flag from Caboose’s grip, but he’s surprisingly strong. “Caboose, no naptime. They’re probably planning their attack as we speak.” He tugs again, and this time Caboose gives it up with a reluctant whine. “We’ve gotta catch up.”

Following Caboose’s lead, Tucker lies down in a pile of tissue boxes, hands behind his head. “You really think the Reds are planning anything? They’re probably just building more robots and playing weird music on their radio, like they always do.”

“Didn’t you tell me that Sarge went through a lot of trouble just to reenter the Blues into the database?”

“Well, yeah, but that was before he found out that this whole thing is just Project Freelancer bullshit. What’s the point of it now?”

‘To win,’ Wash wants to say, but he can tell by the slight bitter undertone that Tucker’s still pissed about Epsilon, even if he won’t say it. Even Caboose is a bit quieter than usual, and Wash doesn’t think it’s because he fell asleep. Or maybe it is. Caboose is still kind of an enigma to him.

“Look,” Wash says reluctantly, and the two look at him. He pauses. It’s been a while since he talked to them,  _ actually _ talked to them. He wants to say this right. “I know you guys are pretty upset about what just happened. I’m not that happy about it, either. But they’re gone. They made their choice. And we’re...here. Stuck in the middle of a box canyon. There’s not much else to do. So let’s just...lighten up a bit. Have some fun. We deserve it, after all we’ve been through.”

Tucker shifts and tries to sit up on his throne of tissue boxes. “I don’t know how much fun we’re gonna have letting them kick our butts. We’ve never gotten their flag before, remember? We’ve never even  _ seen  _ it. And our only kills are team kills!”

“I know, I was there when you talked about it. And, if you may recall, yours truly is an ex-Freelancer. That means advanced training in combat, battle strategy, stealth. I could go on.”

“Please, tell us more about how great you are,” Tucker says dryly.

Wash purses his lips. “I’m just saying, we have the advantage here.”

“Yeah, Agent Washington said his kill count adds to our kill count,” Caboose adds. “So. That plus mine is like. A lot.”

Tucker shrugs. “Fine, if you’re so cool, then why don’t you just do it yourself?”

Washington can’t help but smirk a little bit. “Is that a challenge?”

“Sure, whatever. Bet you can’t do it, though.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back. This place better be clean by the time I return.”

With that, Wash picks up his gun and heads off to the Red base, but not before practically  _ hearing _ Tucker roll his eyes at him.

***

Washington rests the flag against the wall and puts his hands on his hips. “Guys! I asked you to do one thing while I was gone! One thing! This place looks even worse than when I left it!” He tears his eyes away from the sea of wrappers, tissues, and miscellaneous trash to glare at them. They just stare. “Ugh. Here, hold this.” He tosses Lopez’s head to Caboose.

Wash sighs and starts sorting the picture books and magazines into separate piles. The ones with more skin go in a pile he mentally labels the Tucker pile, while the ones with more fuzzy cartoon animals go in Caboose’s. “I swear, it’s like I’m living with a bunch of teenagers. Is it really too much to ask for a space where I can walk without stepping on a piece of gum?”

“Tucker did it.”

“Dude, shut up. Wash, you left, like, fifteen minutes ago. How the hell did you--?”

“Advanced training in hand to hand combat, stealth, et cetera et cetera. You know. Because I’m ‘great.’ Also, they weren’t really trying. At all. I felt like I was robbing the place. And another thing,” Wash continues, holding up a...thing. It feels moist, somehow. “What in God’s name _ is _ this?”

Caboose clears his throat. “That’s, um, that’s my friend. His name is Waffles. He gets kinda sweaty when he’s nervous.” Tucker makes a suppressed gagging sound. “I think he likes you, though!”

“Please put Waffles somewhere else.” Wash wags it at him. “The bathroom, maybe. Make sure it doesn’t mold over or...or something.”

“Okie doke.” Caboose gently removes Waffles from between Wash’s fingertips and places Waffles on Lopez’s head. Lopez shouts his complaints as they stroll into the bathroom. 

“And Tucker?”

“What--yeah?” He sounds startled.

Wash gestures to the nudie mags. “I don’t mind that you have these, but for the love of God, please put them somewhere where I can’t see them. I don’t want to know what you look at in your private time.”

“Geez, haven’t you ever seen a nudie mag before? A man’s got needs, dude.” Tucker takes the magazines and tucks them under his arm. Then he just stares.

Wash stares back. “When I said ‘somewhere where I can’t see them,’ I was thinking of something less visible than your armpit.”

“Man, I can’t believe you still have the energy to be such a hardass after tearing that place apart.”

Wash snorts. “Please. That was just a warmup. Once we’re all settled in, we’ll talk strategy for the next round.”

“You know, you are way more into this whole flag thing than I thought you’d be.”

“Let’s just say it’s been a long time since I got a chance for a good workout like this.”

Tucker nods. “Bow chicka bow wow.”

“What?” Wash takes a moment to digest. “Oh… Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Better get ready for round two, Wash. Bow chicka bow wow.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“This time’ll  _ really  _ make you sweat. Bow chicka--”

“Dammit, Tucker, just--just put that thing away before I take care of it myself!”

Silence.

“Alright… Go ahead. Just s--”

“Bow chicka bow wow.”

“--say it. Wow. Congrats.”

“You brought that one on yourself.”

“I know.”

***

The first time they win--together, as a team--it goes incredibly wrong and then incredibly right at the last second. Wash assumes it’s just their style. He kind of gets a rush from it, actually.

He can see the appeal in these simulations, how they employ the worst possible soldiers to make sure the worst possible scenarios occur. Caboose somehow manages to blow a hole in the wall, Tucker almost drowns, Wash nearly loses his foot, and this is all before they even reach Red base. Once they get there, though, it’s almost too easy. It’s chaotic, and there’s a Spanish robot yelling in the background the entire time, but Wash makes it back to Blue base with the Red flag completely intact. Then, they celebrate.

Caboose fires his gun into the air to celebrate until Wash tells him to stop; he knows Caboose didn’t  _ actually _ kill Church, but. Still. Never can be too careful. Caboose then proceeds to simply run and hop around yelling ‘woo.’ Meanwhile, Tucker whoops and dances on the platform outside, ripping off his helmet and slamming it to the ground before shouting, “TOUCHDOWN!”

Before Washington can register the surprise--huh, he really is black--Tucker’s pacing back and forth and speaking a mile a minute. “Did you see that?! Those guys were like ‘get the Warthog!’ and you were all like ‘why is it always cars!’ and I was all like ‘I got you, bro,’ and then SWISH SWISH-- _ PSYCH _ \--and then they were like ‘whaaaat?!’ and I was like ‘aw yeah’ and then you came in from above with the surprise attack and Lopez was like--”

“I know, Tucker, I was there,” Wash says with no small amount of fondness. Tucker’s grin just grows even wider. He’s never seen him so happy, but then again he’s never actually seen his face before now. It’s not an entirely flattering picture--there’s sweat pouring down his face, his dreads are all askew, and there are some unmistakable shadows beneath his eyes--but… He likes looking at him like this. Seeing him this way. There’s something rewarding about it, even more rewarding than the adrenaline rush and the weight of the flag against his shoulder.

“Hey, remember when I took on both Simmons and Grif at once?” Wash can’t help asking, because Tucker’s face lights right back up again.

“Heck yeah I remember you taking on two at the same time!” Tucker grabs the flag and thrusts against the pole. “Bow chicka bow wow!”

Wash’s face has never been hotter. “Tucker!”

“What!” Tucker twirls the pole in his hand and rests it against his shoulder. Impressive. “You totally set me up for that. You keep doing that a lot.”

“Not on purpose, I assure you.”

“Hey, assholes!” Grif shouts from below. “We’re here for the thing or whatever!”

Wash smirks. “Well, well, well. It’s time to negotiate the terms, I see.”

Tucker uses his free hand to grab Wash’s shoulder and shakes him a little, fondly. “That was awesome,” Tucker says.

“Thanks. Let’s go meet the losers and see what they have for us.”

“Aw man, this is gonna be  _ hilarious _ .”

***

It was hilarious the first three times. Then it got kind of boring. Now it’s just sad.

They’re just going through the motions at this point, Simmons reciting the same old script, Caboose yawning in the background. He has been a lot quieter recently. In fact, the whole group feels somewhat subdued now, like their minds are all still in that hologram room, like they had never truly left. Wash asks what else they’ve got, again out of routine more than anything, and he doesn’t actually expect them to have anything at this point, but then…

“You've been hiding one of the most advanced pieces of technology known to man, so you can hang it in your living room?!”

From there, the conversation spirals into ridiculousness again, and Wash is just waiting for them to quit whining and hand the goddamn thing over, but then Doc comes in and gradually the facade becomes too impossible to maintain. Washington definitely didn’t see some kind of inspirational speech coming, especially not from the purple guy, but he  _ definitely  _ definitely didn’t think Doc would hit the nail right on the head. He didn’t think he had been searching for a new team, a new home, a new  _ family _ , but he has one now and he realizes that it’s all he really wanted. It’s what Carolina wants too, deep down. She must know that. And Epsilon...no, Church…

Tucker’s the first to wordlessly volunteer for this insane mission, which immediately sends Wash into a panic but also pisses him off a little. He saved Tucker from getting shot once already within the past twenty-four hours, and now he’s putting himself in danger  _ again _ ? To make matters worse, everybody else follows, and Wash knows this is different but he can’t help but feel like he’s losing his team all over again. He thinks Sarge must be more perceptive than he thought when it’s his turn to give a speech, because, yes, he’s right. Wash was trying to play it safe. He wanted to bottle them, preserve them in this box canyon for as long as humanly possible. He didn’t want to lose them. But it’s their lives, and they want to risk them for their friend. Wash isn’t unfamiliar with the feeling.

Somehow, these idiots reminded him of what it’s like to be brave. Brave and endlessly forgiving.

He takes one last look at the canyon as he waits for the Reds and Blues to catch up,  surveying Valhalla from the stolen Hornet. There were a lot of memories there, both terrible and exciting, but their time as sim soldiers has finally come to an end. No box canyon can contain these guys any longer. And wherever they go, he’ll follow.

Wash squeezes the wheel and looks out onto the horizon. He--

“Whee! This is the best ride ever!”

“Caboose, shut up, I’m trying to think! Shit, how the hell do you fly this thing?!”

“Tucker, calm down, I already walked you through it at least five times!”

“Hey Wash, could you maybe walk Grif through it before he crashes us into that fucking waterfall?!”

“Shut up, Simmons, quit being such a whiny bitch!”

“We’re all going to die!”

“Donut, stop crying! Grif, fly  _ straight _ , dammit!”

“No, Sarge, I think I’ll fly diagonally! What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?!”

Yep, he’s screwed.


End file.
